


You Make Me Wanna

by chemistink



Category: Supernatural
Genre: D/s, Destiel - Freeform, Dom Castiel, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, NSFW, Songfic, Sub Dean, dom Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemistink/pseuds/chemistink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song La La by Ashlee Simpson [don't judge me, I have a weakness] and the scene at the end of 4x03 "Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester."</p><p>Dean is a good sub for Cas and can't tell what he loves more, needing Castiel or Cas needing him. A few snippets of Dom!Cas and Sub!Dean in all their glory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Wanna

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by tumblr awesomesauce @casneedsdean cause she's awesome like that and decided to mention something about Cas demanding respect from Dean and the kitchen floor and. well. My mind is fun like that. ^_^

**You make me wanna la la. In the kitchen on the floor.**

 

Dean had been baking. At least he thought so. He hazily gripped at his memory to realize that eventually the pie in the oven would need to be tended to. But, as the thick black shock of leather around the tan color of his throat was tugged at, the thought fizzled in his mind. Everything was suddenly a blur to him as he felt Castiel’s fingers rubbing every inch of the tight walls that shuddered at the intrusion of his body. He pressed his forehead against the cool tiles of the kitchen floor as he mewled his approval of the addition of a second finger.

 

Castiel watched, unable to refuse much longer. He gave in to Dean, finally, his head swimming from the sweet noises that came from Dean’s throat, his sweet lips. For someone so brash, so rough around the edges, he was more than willing to drop to his knees and spread his body out for Castiel with a simple glint of hunger in the Angel’s eyes. All it took for Castiel, however, was the way those taut muscles tried to milk his fingers of something that he knew Dean would never beg for out loud until he was moments from giving him exactly what he needed. And he knew what Dean needed.

 

With one solid thrust and a loud cry that had been ripped from both of their throats, Castiel was buried to the hilt inside Dean. There was a shudder below him, the sign of the pain subsiding and his cue to move, and Castiel responded by rubbing an encouraging hand from the small of Dean’s back up to his shoulder, gently massaging the tense muscle there before sliding up and gripping at the back of the collar. He gave one firm pull, causing Dean to arch so deliciously towards him that it tore a growl from deep inside of him as his control finally snapped.

 

**I’ll be your french maid when I meet you at the door.**

 

Dean couldn’t really remember what made him buy the outfit. He had seen a glimpse of the movie Clue a few nights before and laughed to himself about the idea of a maid outfit. But, as Dean always had been, he was definitely willing to try anything once.

 

The stark white collar, the cuffs buttoned at his wrists, even the small lace apron that bounced against the skirt as he walked through the house, all sat in great contrast to the way the dark leather sat snuggly against his throat, demanding recognition.

 

The way Castiel had him pinned against the door, teeth digging into the soft flesh of his shoulder, had Dean making soft sounds of contentment and the occasional whine of need. He knew Cas was pleased by the outfit, knew he didn’t mind the way the tulle scratched against his exposed stomach with every rough grind against Dean’s bare hips. He almost believed that Cas was even enjoying the feeling, maybe even as much as he was revelling in the friction of denim against his skin, rough, gritty and promising of so much more when all the clothing was finally gone.

 

**I’m like an alley cat, drink the milk up**

 

The saucer of milk was almost empty, save the few drops Dean had missed when Castiel had tugged at the leash he wore to get his attention. He turned his head up, eyes widening as he realized he was eye level with the angry tip of Castiel’s erection. He could see the gleam of the drops of precum drooling from the slit and it caused his mouth to water incessantly, tongue moistening his lips before sliding out in hopes to catch one of the salty drops like it was a snowflake he could catch.

 

Castiel had other plans. With two -  or was it three? Dean wasn’t really paying any attention to anything but the droplets - quick strokes, Cas tensed and groaned low in his throat, a sound of primal desire. His hand shook but he held himself steady enough to watch as he painted Dean’s flushed cheeks, lips that had been bitten and abused, and the collar he adored so much, in streams of white, hot cum. He lazily massaged himself as the waves passed through him, slowly coming down from his high, smiling at the sight of Dean attempting to lick up what he could from his lips and cheeks that he could reach.

 

It was Dean’s words that was his undoing, causing his cock to twitch needily in his hand, the other threaded reverently through the soft locks he had managed to miss with his eager want to cover Dean’s face but now gripped tightly in hunger. “ **I want more**.”

 

**You make me wanna…**

 

Dean was ever grateful for Castiel installing the bar above their bed. He had mentioned it a few times, casually in passing, hoping he would take the hint that it was something Dean wanted. It allowed for their favorite japanese silk rope cuffs to hang down easily, it even allowed to be shifted around for different spots if they wanted. For that moment, it sat in his favorite spot, with the cuffs wrapped tightly around Dean’s wrist, but never tight enough for damage. Oh, Castiel would never forgive himself if Dean was somehow hurt. But the pain of his back arching, the burn of the muscles in his shoulders as his arms were tied over his head, the way his thighs ached as he sank onto Castiel’s waiting lap, was all because he loved it and he needed it. He needed Castiel.

 

Hands on the firm, round cheeks of his ass were digging fingertips into soft skin, bound to leave bruises for later. He barely noticed, instead choosing to focus on the way Castiel snapped his hips up against his body, into him. The pace was rough and frantic, the self control he tried to hard to maintain slipping from his grasp, lost in the warm, tight head that was so very much _Dean_.

 

 **You make me wanna…** Dean thought briefly as he felt the heat coil in the pit of his stomach, panting Castiel’s name with each weak breath he tried to take. He felt the hands tightening on his hips as their bodies collided together, every bit of his broken and his soul shattering for Castiel, the Angel he loved so much. He heard the sound through gritted teeth, the hiss of breath in the shape of a word, fall from Cas’s lips. “ **Scream**.”

 

 


End file.
